


Statues and Stories

by cerame



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bittersweet, Brothers, Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Old Age, Reminiscence, Statues, Temple of Souls, mentions First, they're family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24674782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerame/pseuds/cerame
Summary: The Temple of Souls, sullied by blood of soldiers, held a garden decorated with statues of stone. Every feature etched into the lifeless grey was meticulous and perfect. The statues were all perfect, all for imperfect people.Tonight, the garden had a visitor.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 143





	Statues and Stories

The Temple of Souls, sullied by blood of soldiers, held a garden decorated with statues of stone. Every feature etched into the lifeless grey was meticulous and perfect. The statues were perfect, all for imperfect people.

Tonight, the garden had a visitor. This visitor’s path started at the entrance, which led down a path to a pavilion overrun by vines and flowers of all sizes and colors. In the late evening, fireflies danced around the statue under the pavilion's roof.

The statue itself was of a young man, perhaps an older teenager. His side was mottled with scars, and long hair tied back into a low ponytail flowed down his back. A bow slung across his back and a chipped sword in his hands, he stood up, back straight and stance proud and firm. Still, there was a looseness to his stance, as if ready to pounce at any given moment. At his feet bloomed three white and blue flowers, petals glowing in the dark with an ethereal light.

Three dragons were carved into the pillars of the pavilion. They rose up, and in the roof laid carvings of a zora, a rito, a gerudo, and a goron, each with another of their own race behind and above them.

The visitor moved on.

A pond with lily pads and moss came into view, the inexplicable scent of salt on the air. No bridge crossed the pond, for in its center sat a stone boat with a boy in it. A wide grin stretched across the boy’s face, and his hair and an airy, long tunic caught in place in a nonexistent breeze. In his raised hand was a baton, delicate and thin, and in his other hand, fingers wrapped loosely around a sword handle. Seagulls, rolling waves, and various islands were carved into the sides of the boat, which had a face reminiscent of a lion. Inside the boat was a horned helmet.  


The visitor smiled at the statue, then turned and took another path.

In a war many years ago, only the wolf statue had been noticed by passing soldiers, as it resembled the mount of the cursed princess of twilight. However, it had a companion. Across the path, mirroring it, stood a statue of a young man with a pelt on his shoulders and a simple sword and shield on his back. His stance was wide, and his hands were open and loose, ready to wrestle anything that came him way, or maybe to grab his sword should there be a threat. Faint lines of black were painted onto his face, crawling down his nose from his forehead and swiped under his eyes across his cheekbones. Around his neck was a crystal, and at his feet was a mask-like stone crown and a piece of something that might have been part of a circular disc. The shadow the shadow cast seemed to have a different shape in it.

The visitor walked on. There was another path they didn’t want to miss.

A simple statue. Nothing particularly heroic, but still respectable. A simple boy in simple attire crouched on the stone pedestal, a shield held in front of him as a wall and a sword in his hand. The elaborate details on the sword and shield drastically contrasted with the boy’s simplicity, but they still fit. They belonged. Carved into the pedestal was an image of a sleeping woman, another woman standing, and the triforce. Around the boys feet were carved piles of dust.

Of ash.

Further up the path, the visitor found another statue.

This one, unlike the previous statue, had too many details to catch in one glimpse. A boy stood tall and proud, lifeless grey eyes staring off into the distance as a breeze tugged at stone locks once painted pink. A sword in one hand, a rod with four raised circles on the end in the other hand, raised up in the air. The skirts of the long tunics swirled around his knees, though they didn’t touch the feathers that topped his boots. At his feet sat a rabbit, a harp, and a single hibiscus flower. The flower was not of stone, instead placed there like an offering. On the boy’s head, where his hat met his hair, sat a small tiara, and around his wrist hung a bracelet of real gold, a dull, dark grey gem embedded into it.

The visitor stared at the statue for a moment to take in the details. Then, they sighed and continued up the path.

The statue of Young Link, like the wolf, was noticed, but its companion was not. Behind the statue of Young Link was a bush, and behind that was another statue, leaving only leaves and wood to separate the two from standing back-to-back. This other statue was much taller and much older. One eye was closed, and fresh paint marked blue and red across his face in reminiscence of an old god. The man stood tall, armor on his shoulders and a large sword held before him. He had the same hairstyle as the statue of the boy behind him. At his feet sat two masks, mimicking the faces of two gods, and between his feet sat an ocarina. On his head was a fairy, the center circle carved from a stone that glowed light blue in the darkness of the night.

Just around the corner, the wolf and its companion could be found. The visitor knew this. They did not go back. Instead, they went forward.

A clearing with four pillars, one in each corner, held a statue of a short, young man. Straight hair fell to his shoulders, and the sword in his hands was smaller than any of the ones the other statues had wielded. It was fitting for his stature. His tunic was split into quarters, each piece engraved with a symbol and lines that curled around them. Small, mouselike creatures sat on the boy’s shoulders and hair. The boy’s eyes were closed, mouth curved into a serene smile. On each pillar was a symbol matching one of the symbols on the boy’s tunic, and underneath these symbols was a carving of the boy. Each were identical, but the pillar with a symbol reminiscent of three spikes had an additional carving on the back, another carving of the boy. This one, however, had open eyes and a sharp grin, cracks like broken glass jutting across his form.

The visitor sighed, running a hand through their hair as they walked on. They knew what was next.

At the center of the gardens was a circular clearing with a single statue. This was a young man with a cape, sword raised skyward. He had a sturdier frame than the other statues, and fluffy hair and soft features were carved into a fierce glare. The pedestal had a carving of a floating island on the back, and along the sides were carvings of flying birds, wings outstretched, gliding sweetly on air currents. On the front of the pedestal was a carving worn down by time, but still, it was undeniably the symbol of the royal family of Hyrule. On top of the statue's head rested a small, red bird, beady eyes staring down at the visitor cautiously. It waited a few more seconds before taking off, disappearing quickly into the distant night sky.  


“The Hero of the Skies, Hylia’s Chosen Hero,” the old, rusty plaque on the statue read. “First King of Hyrule.”

However… this was not the last statue. The visitor turned north, for there laid a straight path directly toward the northern end of the garden.

Waiting for him was a statue of a man sitting in an alcove. Time had taken its toll on this statue, but some features were still easily recognizable. A scarf draped across his shoulders and hard features smoothed into a contemplative expression. Armor over his chest. Bracers around his forearms.

The First Hero. Hylia’s beloved.

Somewhere else in the garden, in a place the visitor did not go, stood a statue of a young man standing victorious, a banner with with Hyrulean crest embedded in the ground behind him. Sword and shield in hand and scarf around his neck, he stood proud. His hair meticulously parted, a smirk stretched across his face, armor under his clothes and over his shoulder, he looked the part of a true fairy tale knight. Carved into his pedestal were mementos of details found in the other statues, countless people and objects.

His plaque read “Hero of War, Hero of Warriors”.

The visitor knew the statue existed. The visitor didn’t need to see it. The statue was of him, after all, from many years ago. He only needed to see the other nine.

“I miss you all,” the visitor said, voice cracking and strained with age. He smiled at the expanse of vegetation, knowing in his heart where each statue was the secrets they each held. “Every single day.”

They had once been a band of nine heroes from across space and time. They traveled together and grew close. Memories of joking insults, pranks, and laughter flooded back to the visitor, but so did memories of crossed boundaries, heated arguments, and teary shouting. The good came hand-in-hand with the bad. The visitor wouldn’t have traded it for anything because... because they were family, and he loved them.

“I’ll see you someday soon,” the visitor said with a smile, tears welling up in eyes bluer than the ocean, “my brothers.”


End file.
